Never Forget
by nicola.anderson.7
Summary: Set after Sybil died :(
1. Chapter 1

Tom could never forget that moment of pure uselessness he felt while the love of his life, Sybil, died, slowly slipping away from him. And when the awful moment came all he could feel was numbness. Numbness and Grief. He remebered holding Sybil's hand to his lips, kissing it repeatedly, murmuring things like 'Don't leave me love' 'Breathe for me'. He could remember Cora's body, next to his own, wracked with sobs. Dr Clarkson confirmed the devastating news that destroyed his world. Sybil was dead. She wasn't coming back. He stayed frozen where we was, staring at Sybil, even when all the others had gone. He'd lost the only one who had truly known who he was. He'd lost his soulmate. He couldn't register the ugly thought in his head, the mantra that kept repeating itself. _Sybil isn't coming back. She's dead. _Sybil, who looked happy even in death, had been taken from life far too young. She was only 24. Tom studied her face. She looked like she was sleeping, her pale skin, her dark curls framing her face. Slowly, carefully Tom climbed in the bed beside her, longing to hold her one last time. He wrapped his muscular arms around her,pulling her close. Her head fell naturally in place against his chest. And in that moment, his world broke down. His salty tears dripped onto Sybil's lifeless cheeks. The sobs that shook his body, rattled the corpse he held tightly. How he longed for Sybil to wake up, kiss him good morning, ask to see _her _daughter, ask him why he looked such a state. He would laugh, tell her about his horrible dream and she would laugh too. But it wasn't a dream, it was real. So very real.

Hours later Cora was surprised when she came in, to say her final farewells, to find Tom sobbing with her beloved daughter cradled in his arms. His head was bowed, his shoulders sagged. He looked every bit like a man who's world had been torn apart.

"I...I...I just needed to hold once more, to tell her everything would be OK." Tom croaked, his hoarse voice breaking the solid silence. Cora hadn't been expecting him to speak.

"I understand. You must be feeling so awful. But remember, none of this is your fault. She was happy and that was all your fault. It was your fault she was happy, she loved you." Cora said, her voice steady.

"I'll leave you with her...I need...air." Tom squeaked, wiped his eyes and slid off the bed, placing a firm but soft kiss on Sybil's stone cold forehead. He stumbled from the room, trying to walk the numbness from his legs. He staggered into the Library and was surprised to see Matthew, Mary, Robert, Edith, Isobel and the Dowager Countess all together. They were talking hushed voices, barely speaking above a whisper, heads bowed together. Mary looked up and spotted him, standing shyly in the corner.

"Tom, how are?" She asked quietly, breaking the hush.

"No worse than anyone in the room." He murmured.

"You're the worst off than any of us." Matthew said quietly.

Tom looked over and saw Lord Grantham, refusing to look at him. In that moment his grief became anger, his sorrow became hatred, his numbness became heat. He stood up straight, pointed a finger at Lord Grantham, "You're the reason she's dead. You chose to go against your own and now she's dead. You and your stupid experienced doctor are the reason she's dead! You chose this on your own! You went with some stuck up know it all that failed to notice all the signs that something was wrong! You went against the doctor who knew Sybil since she was a little girl! Sybil could still be alive if it wasn't for you! You chose it on your own and now her life is on your head! I hope you drown in grief! Because...because i want you to know how it feels...but you can't. Because she's gone! And it's all your fault!" He roared, his voice cracking at the end, tears streaming down his face. His body was wracked with sobs. No one moved or made any gesture towards him, to comfort him, to console him. There was only one person he needed now, he needed Sybil. He sunk to his knees, his head in his hands, tears streaming, pouring, rushing from his eyes like a never ending river.


	2. More than you'll ever know

Rain battered against the window pane, a cold wind swirling around the room. But Tom didn't care. He was empty, he was blank, his story had been ruined and now he had to write a new one. The bay he held tightly, mewed and wriggled closer to him, bringing him back to reality. His eyes flickered down to her. She had her mother's dark curls and his piercing blue eyes. Baby Sybil. His eyes danced back to the window, the rain, the dullness. It intrigued him. How only the other day it had been sunny and warm, but then again, the other day Sybil was alive. He heard the door creak behind him and he knew someone had joined him in the room. He stared on down the gravel path, the path that the men in black had taken her away down.

"Do you want anything Tom?" Mary's voice probed softly, unsual for her. She usually treated him like he was still the chauffeur.

"I want Sybil back, but you can't get her for me can you?" He snapped. The pain was clear in his voice. He turned around slowly. Mary was standing within touching distance to him. His eyes flickered to the baby in his arms again. Pain shot through him. He held out the baby to Mary, silent tears streaming down his pale cheeks. Mary cautiously took the baby, wrapped her tightly in the blanket again. It had come loose.

"It's not her fault." Mary said softly, calmly. She held the baby back out to him but he made no move to take her again.

"I can't, not when she reminds me about Sybil everytime i look at her. Not when she reminds me that it's my fault." Tom wept, his body tense.

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

"If i hadn't gotten Sybil pregnant, she would still be here. She would still be in my arms. I would still have my WIFE! She would still be alive!" Tom yelled, his voice the strongest it had been since he'd shouted at Lord Grantham. He pushed past Mary and the baby and down the stairs. He burst out the front door and out into the rain. He set off running, his feet bouncing off the spring grass. His shirt was drenched, clinging to his muscular body. He didn't care, he just couldn't care anymore. Mud splattered up his legs as he pounded towards the trees, edging Downton. When he could no longer run, he found shelter next to the river that ran through the estate. He sat on the banks, rain still pouring, not caring about the swelling river, that it would still be swallowing him up. He wished it would hurry up, swallow him whole. He couldn't live like this. Not without her. Sure enough it washed over his feet, leaving his shoes soddden. Very slowly, carefully, he eased himself into the river. It was up to his chest, the current pushing against him. Still he remained steady. He eased himself on to his back, floating. He closed his eyes.

Sybil was next to him, holding his hand. Both of them just floating down the river, not a care in the world. Just them and no one else. She kissed his hand. He grinned at her. She reached up and kissed him firmly on the lips then whispered in his ear.

"Look after her. Don't hate her, don't blame her. Look after her, promise me. You'll make her happy, keep her warm, fed, happy. I assure you, if you do that, you'll be happy. I love you Tom Branson." Sybil kissed him again then began to fade.

"I promise, i'll look after her. I'll make her happy. I love you. Don't leave me, please." Tom cried, tears wetting his damp cheeks again. But Sybil was gone. Water surged over his face. His eyes shot open. He shot to his feet, the barely touched the bottom of the river. He pushed himself over to the edge and hauled himself out, shivering wildly.

"Who were you talking to?" Matthew asked from above him. Tom looked up and saw Matthew standing over him.

"Sybil. I was talking to Sybil." He shivered again and stood up.

"Good god man, you're sodden." Matthew said, confused.

"Thanks...for pointing out the obvious." Tom managed a ghost of a smile. He closed his eyes and could see Sybil again. She looked happy, healthy. She looked beautiful.

"That sounds more like the Tom Branson I know, come on, let's get you some dry clothes." Matthew said and the pain walked back to Downton.

Back in Sybil's room. He was in dry clothes now. He reached into the cot and scooped up baby Sybil with trembling hands. She gurgled happily and smiled. He cradled her to his chest and very carefully, kissed her head, "I love you Sybil. More than you'll ever know."


	3. Chapter 3

The funeral, bringing on fresh tears, fresh pain, fresh guilt. Tom remembered being driven to the church. Most of all he remembered the people's faces' as he said his final farewells to Sybil.

"My dearest Sybil. You brought a smile...you brought a smile to everyone's face, just by walking into a room. You've been taken from me far too early. Far too early...You should be the one to comfort our child, it ought to be you. I would give anything to be where you are right now...if it meant you'd still be alive. I promise you, I will never forget you, i will never love again. You taught me many different things, you taught me to love, to cry. You taught me to lie and life...taught me to die. Because that's where i would rather be. Dead than without you. But i know you wouldn't want that, you'd want me to take care of our daughter. So that is what i'll do. I'll look after her with every bone in my body, every fibre in my being. Because...because i know you'd want me to. I...I love you Sybil Branson." Tom sobbed the last words. He staggered down from the podium, gulping back his tears, muting his sobs. The priest said his prayers then Sybil was carried out into the graveyard. She was lowered into a big hole. When the time came Tom sadly dropped a handful of earth on the coffin lid. It obscured the name. _Sybil Branson._ She was gone but she would never be forgotten, Tom would make sure of that. Their daughter would know who her real mother was, _who her real mother is._ Tom would bring her to the grave. After everyone had gone back to the house Tom lingered at the grave. He crouched down next to the big headstone and stroked the words engraved in it. _Here lies Sybil Branson, taken from her family far too young. A loving daughter, wife and mother. She never had the chance to say goodbye. _Then he broke down. He stayed that way, his fingers lingering on her name, his head bowed, his shoulders sagging, his body wracked with heart-wrenching sobs. Nothing can make the pain go away, nothing except Sybil. He stayed there long into the night, wishing to keep her company. He knew how Sybil hated to be on her own. He was going to stay with her and keep her happy. He had too. His tears had long since dried up but how he longed for Sybil to be able to wipe away all his tears, how he longed to kiss her a final goodbye, her kissing him back, how he longed to hold her in his arms at night, to feel her heart against his chest, to feel her warmth, to stroke her soft silky hair, twist his fingers in it, kiss her. How he longed for those days in Ireland when the sun shone and he and Sybil would go on a picnic in the countryside, her head in his lap, he playing with her hair while she made daisy chains. The warm breeze brushing away all coldness. Or those long, rainy winter nights, sitting by the fire, cuddled together while they read a book together, Sybil snuggled on his lap, a blanket cocooning them both. How he longed for those brief passionate moment when it was her skin on his, her body on his, no restraints, just love. He longed just for one more day to be with her. Just Sybil and Tom, together at last. Very slowly, Tom slumped to the grass beside the fresh grave, sleep taking over, his eyelids heavy balls, his tears all gone, no more to cry. His wounds wouldn't heal.

He was awoken by the sounds of frantic footsteps and torch beams in the distance. He was freezing cold. He rubbed his hands together to try and get some feeling back in them. He looked over at Sybil's final resting place.

"I must go now, love. I'll be back, trust me. I'll bring flowers." He whispered softly, kissing 3 fingers and pressing them against the headstone. His mourning attire was not suited to the freezing cold nights of the November months. He sighed wistfully then started to walk back towards the gravel path, stamping his feet, trying to regain feeling in them. He was blinded by a beam of light in his face as he left the graveyard.

"Tom? Where have you been? Everyone's been worried sick." Cora's familiar voice gasped. He glanced back at the grave.

"Tom? Are you alright? Where were you?" Mary asked. He realised it was Cora, Mary and Anna that had found him.

"I...I couldn't leave her. She hates being on her own." He said flatly, relieved to have regained feeling in his hands and feet.

"Oh Tom..." Cora wept quietly, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "You look half frozen to death, let's get you back to the house," She tucked her arm through his and started to march back to the house, Mary and Anna in pursuit. Mary spotted her father and Matthew out searching at called out to them, "It's alright, he's here, you can stop looking now." Tom remembered being ushered back to the house. Mrs Patmore handed him a bowl of hot soup and bread as he was forced to sit in the Library. Robert was fuming with him for having to get out of his bed and go out searching for an Irish socialist he was never too found of since the stand in Ripon. He lectured Tom but his words fell on deaf ears. Tom was thinking about life back in Ireland, if she'd had the baby in Ireland the nurses would have spotted the signs early, they could have saved her. They were all fond of her, having worked with her before she became pregnant. Everyone loved Sybil. Tom placed his soup on the table and stood up, "I don't want to be rude but i would like to go up to my room. I would like to have some time to think of my actions. I apologise for causing all this trouble. Excuse me." He slipped through the horde of people and up to his room.


End file.
